


His Master's Voice

by Luki



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Dying Will Flames are common knowledge, Familiars, Gen, Golems, Varia - Freeform, Wolf!Squalo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luki/pseuds/Luki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, people were strong enough to summon gods.  Those days are long gone, but Xanxus has no intention of being anything less than what came before him.  </p>
<p>On his 13th birthday, he heads to the kennels for his first familiar, but leaves wanting.  Canines are known for their loyalty, but dogs have been bred into trash. Xanxus needs something older. Something that's as old as the spirit of Italy itself.</p>
<p>He needs a wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Master's Voice

**Author's Note:**

> AKA, that time I wrote an 10K fic to give context to 250 words.
> 
> So, two weeks ago this beautiful piece of art crossed my Tumblr path (http://minty-illusions.tumblr.com/post/57915969254) and I prayed that it came with fanfiction. Turns out, it didn’t, and my brain decided that was unacceptable. 
> 
> The magic system in this fic isn’t actually based on anything but my own imagination, so hopefully it’s easy enough to follow. Enjoy!

**His Master's Voice  
**

Once upon a time, people were strong enough to summon gods.

There were records, paintings, stories. Time spoke of the days when demons and fey walked the streets alongside men, of Kings who gained power by allying themselves with forces that could change the world. Men who could move mountains, summoning not just the elements but the very forces of nature themselves. Whose magic was so strong it burst from their hands and heads – the dying will flame – the power that separated the ordinary magical medium from _mages._

Those days are long gone. Some say it was a gradual descent, ebbing as more and more people were born. Some insist that it left when the fey and other magical creatures fled back to their world as technology grew. Others insist the power fled after the two great wars – too many wills were broken from the tragedy that the world never recovered. Whatever the reason, magical talent was dimming. What was once common place is now extraordinary, and those with enough power to be considered mages were an endangered species.

Ironically, if someone actually managed to activate their flames now, they couldn't stay unknown. Their country's government would swallow them up, or their local criminal syndicate did. Middle ground didn't exist. But with less than 2% of the population having the magical potential, most just hoped their magic was strong enough to get them noticed. The majority of people were nulls – power to create charms or overwrite existing contracts, but little else. If you were lucky, you were a medium, with enough juice to fuel familiars and summon golems – that kind of power opened doors.

Growing up in the slums meant magic was the only way out. Most didn't have the power to do more than make a simple protection charm, let alone summon a spirit or create a familiar. Blood magic and ritual was used on every street to compensate.

Xanxus however, wasn't 'most.' When he was just five years old, he managed to create a familiar out of a rat. It wasn't a full contract – just gave the rodent the ability to speak, and it died less than 2 months later – but it was something most magically inclined couldn't do until puberty. It put him on the map, people trying to push him into swearing loyalty to their faction. A magical contract that would bind him to whoever could get him to sign. He beat up anyone who shoved one in his face.

At seven years, he managed to defeat the local gang members hoping to initiate him by summoning six golems without tokens at the same time. That's when people started trying to swear loyalty to him.

When Xanxus was eight, his hands burst into flames. Within hours, the news was all over the neighbourhood, and his mother burst into tears.

"That's the Vongola flame!" she says, face exhilarated. "Oh my baby boy! Life will be so much easier now!"

Two days later, Xanxus is being introduced to his father. One of the strongest mages that has lived in the last hundred years, and the leader of the most powerful mafia family in the world – a family that can only be inherited by blood. The magic that runs in that family is almost as strong as it was in the days of yore.

And one day, all of it will be his.

* * *

 

A lot of things change when he leaves the slums for the Vongola mansion. He rarely sees his mother, she's been given an allowance and an apartment and a Sky infused protection charm, so he doubts she's missing him. But his mother had never tried to control him – now he has a father, three brothers, and an entire building looking over his shoulder.

It's frustrating and restricting…but it's also kind of nice. His tutors are idiots, but they've taught him things about magic that instinct just can't. Gut feelings won't help him figure out how create a real contract or how to control a summon or how to keep his golems alive. That requires study.

They also teach him the importance of Guardians for a mage. They more power you have, the more you have to use it in order to keep it – much like an athlete's muscles. For mages, the easiest way is contracts and summons.

Familiars are the most common type of magical companion. They come in two types – the kind Xanxus has made half a dozen times, where you shove a ton of magic into an animal and give it intelligence and speech, and the more powerful, dangerous kind. Where you create a bond and form a contract – bestowing the animal with human form. In exchange, you have a minion whose loyalty cannot be bought.

Sometimes, when a mage dies or weakens, the contract can be overwritten. It's how a lot of mediums and nulls get familiars nowadays – inheriting them from dying family members. Since the initial transformation has already been done, you don't need as much power.

For mages, familiars are the most vital of all possible Guardians. Familiars keep their human form through a steady stream of magic coming from their contractor. But unlike other Guardians who just take that power as the price for their loyalty, familiars soak it up and hold it like a battery. Should there ever by a time Xanxus needs more power than he has, he'll have an immediate source right there.

Five years later, on his thirteenth birthday, his father gifts him with the Varia. The Vongola's independent assassination squad, home to some of the strongest and deadliest warriors Vongola have to offer. From his brothers, he's given charms in the form of feathers, filled with magical power should he ever need a boost, and a trip to the Vongola dog breeder to help him find his very first familiar. Dogs are the perfect choice; they explain to him. They're already naturally loyal, and the Vongola breeder guarantees intelligence, health, power and every other necessity a mage might want – after all, no matter how powerful the mage, a contract can only build on what already exists.

Xanxus walks through the kennels, taking in all the breeds. The Dobermans, the Labradors, the sheepdogs and the greyhounds, and finds them all wanting. When his brothers ask which one he wants, he fires a gun in the sky, and grimaces as he watches every single hound run away and cower in the corners of their cages.

He doesn't want a domesticated pet. If Xanxus wants to inherit the Decimo position over his siblings, he needs familiars that are just as powerful as he is. And Xanxus is anything but domestic.

Canines are known for their loyalty, but dogs have been bred into trash. Xanxus needs something older. Something that's as old as the spirit of Italy itself.

He needs a wolf.

Two days later, the Varia officers walk into his new office to find an open window and a letter pinned to the wall with a knife.

_'Gone hunting for a familiar. Don't bother sending scum looking for me, will be back when I'm back._

_Xanxus.'_

* * *

A week later, Xanxus finds himself in the Abruzzo National Park, hiking up the Apennine Mountains in the snow. He's starting to think going hunting for his familiar at the start of winter might not have been his best decision.

But on the other foot, if he wants the best, what better time to find them than at the worst time of year? When only the strongest make it through to spring.

For the first two days, he's faced with nothing but utter failure. The first day, he runs into two wolves, but both bolt from his very presence. The second day has him chasing howls with no sign from the creatures at all.

On the third day though? The third day, he hits pay dirt. He hears a beautiful howl crying through the trees, and he chooses to follow the sound, trying to figure out just where it comes from.

He doesn't even realise he's being tracked until his stalker chooses to reveal himself. He's next to a river, filling up a water bottle when he hears the low growl echoing around him. Slowly, he raises himself up and turns round to face the wolf stalking towards him.

Grey fur, amber eyes, skinny – but not starving, and completely focused on him. Xanxus goes for his gun, but instead of aiming it at the new arrival, he shoots into the sky.

The first time he did this, the wolves had bolted into the trees, terrified of the sound. He's not interested in cowards.

But this wolf doesn't move. Muscles tense and teeth are bared, but his eyes stay on Xanxus. Slowly, he drops the gun back down, and laughs.

"Oh, you'll do trash" he says, and pulls out a package he's been carrying for the last three days. The wolf's nostrils flare as he reveals the fresh venison, picked up from a local butcher on his way to the park. The juice drips onto his hand, staining the ends of his sleeves as he holds out the meat.

"Here. Consider it a courting gift."

His tutors and brothers had explained how this would go. In order to start a contract, you needed to offer tribute. Usually a meal, infused with your own magical signature. If the animal accepted it, the bond would start to build, until one day, the magic solidified into a physical aura that could be bound to your own magical signature. However, depending on the animal, it could take anywhere from hours to months for an aura to reveal itself in order to complete the contract.

Xanxus expected the wolf would take months. It would be a little disheartening if he won the damn thing over in a matter of days.

What he didn't expect, was for the wolf to snort, nose turned up, and – there's no other word for it – flounce back into the forest.

Xanxus wants to shoot him just for that, but the confusion as to what he's doing wrong holds him back. The only way to get to get a familiar is to earn the creatures trust. Before magic gives them a higher IQ, animals have very basic needs. Food, shelter, sex; so why the hell is the damn trash turning his nose up at fresh fucking venison that's still staining his hand. It's fresh and clean, and as good as any other deer the damn wolf could have caught…himself.

Alone on a mountaintop, Xanxus bursts into laughter. Oh, he's such an idiot. The wolf can get deer on his own. If he wanted someone to hand it to him, he'd be in the car park or local village, bearing his belly like a dog.

But Xanxus doesn't want a dog. He wants a beast, and that means offering something the wolf can't get on his own. Right plan, wrong execution.

He can't go to the butcher for this, so it takes him three days to grab the new tribute, and another two in order to track down the wolf again, following the echoing howl in the mountains. When Xanxus catches a glimpse, the wolf's probably stalked the clearing twice before he let him catch a peek. He can't stop the grin when he spots the canine's nostrils flare, and holds up the parcel wrapped in butcher paper.

The beast slinks out, tense and feral, fangs bared, while Xanxus makes a show of unwrapping his prize. He started growling, getting impatient, but tapers off when the fresh meat is revealed.

The national park is nowhere near the ocean, and though the rivers would offer the hunter fish, he would never have tasted something like this. Xanxus pulls a slice of flesh from the pile and offers it in tribute.

"Bet you've never tasted anything like this trash" he says. "You're the best hunter on this mountain, this is the best hunter in the water. It's shark."

The muzzle grew closer, the sniffing almost violent. Amber eyes were still too wary, but there's too much curiosity for him to pull back. In a split second, Xanxus finds his hand free, and his target a few feet away, chomping on the flesh.

The wolf is practically grinning, and Xanxus does the exact same, lifting another piece from the packet. In the back of his mind, he can feel his magic buzzing, creating the link between him and the animal in front of him.

"If you think this is good, you should come with me and hunt down some real predators. You're too good to be stuck hunting peter fucking cottontail for the rest of your life."

The wolf finishes up his meal, and eyes the next piece hungrily. Xanxus tosses it in his direction.

"That's it. You want more, you're gonna have to work for it trash."

* * *

 

With Xanxus succeeding with his peace offering, the two of them manage to create a schedule. In the morning Xanxus tries to hunt him down, when they meet, they go hunting, and share the kill. In the evening Xanxus creates a fire, and drinks himself to sleep in his tent. Every night, the wolf watches him from the other side of the fire, and every week, he inches closer. Within a month, he's almost close enough to touch.

And a month is about as patient as Xanxus gets.

"Oi! Trash – get over here already!"

The wolf jerks to his feet and snarls. Xanxus just snarls back and glares at him.

It's a vicious standoff, but the wolf is already backing down. When he finally sits back down, it's at Xanxus' side. He scratches the wolf behind the ears. There's still no aura, but the wolf's haunches have finally relaxed.

That night, and every night after, he has a companion in his tent.

It takes three months of visits, three months of hikes, of offerings and fights…but it finally pays off one night when the wolf curls up next to him, and he feels more than just fur. The wolf tenses as Xanxus finds his flames rippling to the surface, resonating with the wolf's aura – a soft blue surrounding the creature. He pools his magic, activating his flames and holds out his hand, orange and red flame pulsing in resonance, the wolf gazing into the light.

If he turns tail and runs now, he won't be able to pull the creature back. When it comes to binding a familiar, you only get one shot. Not to mention the humiliation he'll face if he returns home empty handed.

But that won't happen. He knows this beast – he wouldn't be holding out his hand if he thought for a second he wouldn't accept. If the wolf ends up being a coward at the last minute, Xanxus will shoot him before he ever reaches the tree line for wasting his time.

An unnecessary fear – a moment later, the wolf is pressing his muzzle into his hand, letting the flames drench his fur, absorbing the aura and cascading down the grey ruff. He feels the wolf's aura bind with his own magic, merging and mixing to create a wholly unique beast.

In his mind, he focuses on what he wants. A right hand, a powerful warrior to have his back and corral the future Guardians he collects so Xanxus doesn't have to. Hair the same ethereal grey of his fur, wrapped in the Varia uniform, a perfect specimen, in its prime. A name is needed to seal the contract, and Xanxus thinks of the flesh the wolf accepted that day.

"I name you…Squalo" Xanxus snarls, and the contract seals. Ears and muzzle shrink, limbs lengthen, fur retracts and the mind grows. A moment later, the wolf is replaced with a teen kneeling at his feet, clad in black leather, the mage's hand wrapped in the wild grey strands of hair that stuck out in every direction on his new familiar's head. On both of their right wrists, a blue mark in the shape of a raindrop now lies – the seal of their contract.

There's a shudder, leather rippling and hands clenching, exploring the new sensations, and the teen pushes his head up. His eyes have gone from amber to grey, in harmony with his new pale skin, wrapped around cheekbones sharp enough to cut. He cocks his head, taking in his master with his news eyes, and cocks a smile, revealing a hint of fang. A tongue darts out, licking his news lips as he tests the new appendages, mouth moving in experiment before putting the sounds together.

"Xanxus."

His master grins, and Squalo rises to his feet.

* * *

It's a well-known fact that no matter how smart or prepared the mage or summoner was, their first familiar would never be exactly what they wanted. There was always one thing they didn't foresee. So Xanxus had tried to make sure the vitals were covered. When it came to forming 'Squalo,' Xanxus had focused on the body and mind. He wanted strength and speed, loyalty and smarts. As long as he had that, he'd be satisfied – any flaw would be immaterial.

"Vooooiiiiii!"

Xanxus grimaced and turned to glare at familiar storming down the corridor, who was grinning like a loon.

He was really starting to regret not putting any thought into his familiar's _voice._

As a wolf, Squalo's howl had been beautiful and melodic. But the vocal chords of a human were not designed to howl, and Xanxus hadn't really put much thought into his voice outside of 'has one'. Squalo, apparently, didn't care what he sounded like so long as he could be heard, and so every poor soul in the Varia had to deal with inner ear damage.

It would be hysterical if Squalo wasn't so bent in yelling in _his_ ear. All. The damn. Time!

"Shut the hell up trash!" Xanxus snaps, grabbing some ridiculous valuable off a table and tossing it in his familiar's direction. Squalo just ducks underneath it, grin dissolving into a snarl.

"Voi! What the hell was that for?"

Xanxus just glares at him, before turning away and storming down the corridor.

* * *

Most of the time, Squalo likes being Xanxus' familiar.

The memories of before Xanxus are hazy, lacking the coherency that sentience provides. He remembers being alone, of meeting a two legged who brought gifts of flesh he couldn't get himself, of fire and pack and safety. Xanxus plucked him from his solitary life, and took him to a land where he could grow stronger at his mages side.

But sometimes, he misses the simplicity that came with being a wolf. The material the pack dress in is strong and tough, but it feels strange against his skin. He misses his pelt and tail.

And the _rules!_ Anything Xanxus knew about being human was implanted with the contract, but there was just so much to remember. Talking, dancing, dressing, defecating, eating – humans made up rules for things that no creature should need rules for! Sometimes it was all he could do to remember to walk on two legs – no matter how much he knew this body was bipedal, he's spent most of his life on four, with teeth and claws.

Oh…his teeth and claws. He thinks he misses them the most. Technically he still has fangs, but they're tiny baby things compared to his old jaw. Some humans let their familiars keep them – a feral ace in the hole, but Xanxus hadn't. He'd stripped him of all his strengths and punished him when he forgot.

Two weeks after arriving at the Varia, Squalo had been attacked by the Varia's former second-in-command, who had been kicked out by Xanxus in order to make room for him. His automatic reaction had been to lunge at the man, trying to tear out his throat, only for Xanxus to storm in and to kick him across the room, shooting when he tried to stand.

"You're not an animal anymore trash!" Xanxus had snarled, after he yanked his opponent up and threw him through the window. "Fucking act like it!"

Squalo had snarled back, from where he'd fallen against the wall, blood still smeared on his chin. "Fuck you Boss! What do you expect me to do? All I have left are these pathetic fangs."

"And if you bite someone again I'll rip them out myself! Learn how to fight like a human."

"Xanxus…" Squalo had pleaded. "Give me back my teeth."

The teen had just snorted, and walked out of the room. Squalo had cursed his name, curling up by the fireplace and wishing he'd stayed on the mountain.

The next morning, Xanxus stormed in, walking him up with a bottle smashing against the fireplace and whacking Squalo over the head with a long piece of metal. Squalo had shrieked, only to fall silent at Xanxus dropped the weapon in his lap.

"There. A human fang. Learn how to use it."

A sword – his mind supplied, as he hands grabbed the sheath and hilt and pulled them apart, revealing the shining blade. Designed to cut down opponents, but as dangerous to its owner as its enemies if one didn't know how to use it.

Squalo looks at the reflection in the metal, still foreign to his eyes, and smiles.

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Xanxus is screaming at him as he sits in a hospital bed while the Vongola scientists put together a prosthetic for him. Squalo lets him yell – he doesn't regret it. He's used to fangs being part of him – he doesn't want a weapon that can be taken away.

He hasn't lost an arm; he's earned his teeth.

* * *

Unfortunately, as the first familiar and acting right hand, it also means that when Xanxus finds a new toy, Squalo's the poor sod who has to figure out what to do with it once he finally has it.

Somewhere in his head, he knew the name of this country, the name of the palace, and even the names of the current royalty inhabiting it, but Squalo quite frankly didn't really see the point in remembering stupid things like that. All he needed to know was that some moron working for said royalty had stolen something from an ally of Vongola big enough to deploy Xanxus and his new familiar personally to retrieve it…and kill the idiot who came up with the idea in the first place, just to send the right message.

Except when they came to break down the door and bust some heads, somebody had gotten there first. The door was partially disintegrated, and the walls were scorched. When Squalo sniffed the air, blood flooded his nostrils.

"Voi…somebody's been busy."

Xanxus just stormed forward. It didn't take long to find the first body, completely shredded to pieces. The victim – a maid probably - was embedded with a dozen pieces of cutlery.

"Never seen anything like this" Xanxus said, crouching next to the corpse. "You hear anything?"

Squalo was frowning. "Yeah…but not sure what. Nothing human anyway. Voi, whatever did this didn't leave anyone to tell their story. But it's still here."

"Shishishishi…silly peasants tried to make me play nice."

They both jerked, and flung themselves in different directions as a dozen steak knives suddenly flew in their direction. Out of the corner of his eye, Xanxus spotted blonde hair flying down the corridor.

Squalo's sniffed the air, and winced.

"Weasel" he states. "But he's got some kind of token."

Xanxus scoffs. Of course he does – familiars revert back to animals without their master's magic. If this one is still talking with everyone in the building dead, he's picked up a battery of some kind. In a palace with history like this, it could be anything from a necklace to a statue to even the damn building itself.

Weasels get a bad rep, but they're actually pretty good familiars. They're vicious and territorial, but also surprisingly loyal and perceptive – more than one tactician in the Vongola has a weasel familiar to double check plans. Sneaky they might be, but Xanxus has never known one to snap and go on a mass murdering spree – that's feline territory.

It takes them a frustratingly long time to pin the creature down. He's vicious, resourceful and knows the area like the back of his hand. In the end, it's only Xanxus and his flames that manage to bring the weasel down, blasting through a wall and crushing him under the rubble. Before he can manage to scramble out, Squalo has his sword pinned to his throat, and Xanxus gives him a cursory glance.

The weasel actually looks familiar. The hair is obstructing his eyes, but Xanxus has seen that face on every single family portrait in this damn building. A smirk darts onto his face. Clever – use the familiar as a body double and keep the real prince out of danger.

Apparently the familiar in question had disagreed.

At least the question of _why_ he's still human has been answered. There's a tiara knotted in his hair, and he can _feel_ the power it radiates from here. The kind you don't get without shedding an awful lot of involuntary blood. You don't grow up in the slums without recognising that kind of ritual.

…Which explains the massacre. Placing that thing on anyone's head would drive them crazy. The weasel didn't have a chance. Whatever he might have been once, he's bloodthirsty and vicious and completely mad now.

He should just shoot the thing and be done with it.

And yet…

Squalo, noticing his indecision, turns and hollers at him. "Voi! You can't be serious!"

"Shut it trash!" Xanxus snaps. "He's strong, he's smart, and he's very good at killing. That's not a bad resume."

"Shishishishi…" the weasel cackles. "The peasant thinks he can control the Prince? I'll kill you for such disresp-ah!"

The weasel cut off, flinching and trying to sink into the floor beneath him as Xanxus's activated his flames, filling the room with his magic. Even Squalo, fuelled on that very power source has to pull back his sword and step back for his own safety.

"Listen scum" Xanxus said, cocking one gun and pointing it directly at the weasel's head. "You can either die right here, or you can follow a real prince. I'm the man who'll one day inherit the Vongola, the most powerful organisation in the world."

He smirked, and held his other hand out, flames pulsing. "That token won't keep you human forever trash. I'll take up your old master's contract, and in exchange, you'll work for me. Or, if you don't like that idea, I'll shoot you right now. What'll it be?"

He couldn't see his eyes, but Xanxus was pretty certain the weasel was glaring at him. Slowly, he pulled himself out from the rubble, heedless of Squalo tensing on the side-lines. When he was finally free, he gave Xanxus another look…and knelt.

"Shishishishishi…the Prince thinks you could be an interesting master. I accept."

There was no need to create a bond here, the weasel was still riding the magic from the previous contract – the tiara alone giving him enough power to form an aura. Xanxus placed his hand on the back of the weasel's head, careful to avoid the cursed headgear, and pulled the aura in. All this contract really needed was a name.

"I name you, Belphegor" Xanxus decided, flames rippling as the magic settled. The newly christened Belphegor shuddered, the new contract settling on his frame, before looking up and grinning.

"Shishishishishi…Belphegor? The prince approves."

"Like I care trash" Xanxus snarked back, and gestured in Squalo's direction before walking towards the door.

"You're in charge of settling the scum in" he says on his way past, pulling up his sleeve to check the new storm-shaped seal on his left wrist.

"Voi! You're the one who wanted him, why do I have to do it?" Squalo yelps.

"Because I said so!"

"Shishishishishi…the Prince thinks this might be more fun that he thought."

"Voi! You shut up! And lose the tiara!"

* * *

To nobody's surprise, Belphegor took to the Varia like a duck to water.

He refused to give up the tiara though. After the fifth Varia recruit died trying to remove it, they stopped asking.

* * *

Until he met his father and was introduced to his Guardians, the most powerful spirit Xanxus had ever met was Lussuria, the land spirit of his slumtown.

People often assumed land spirits needed cities in order to come to life. They forgot that Land Spirits had existed when cities were tiny harbour towns. Nowadays, it wasn't just cities that have personalities, it's _neighbourhoods._

Lussuria had breathed into being decades ago, when the streets that housed the fireflies and drug dealers and general scum of society that Xanxus called home for nearly ten years had accepted its role in the city as its dirty little secret. The magic signature of all those who lived there pooling together to become a sentient creature that represented everything they were. Xanxus had seen the man in passing growing up, laughing with the whores, flirting with the drug dealers, and looking upon those with almost no magic to speak of with pity. Those he would often convince to follow him home…and were never seen again.

Well…sometimes the bodies showed up. Frankly, it was generally accepted that anyone that took Lussuria's hand was basically putting a bullet in their mouth. Every now and then some hot shot from a small time mafia family would try to bind the spirit in a contract, and the town would be blessed by Lussuria showing their neighbours that although their slum was broken and dirty and trash, they were a long way from weak and submissive. He'd spread the would-be contractor's corpses all over the street just to make a point, and then go to the bar and pick up his latest abductee.

Xanxus had never really interacted with him - the last time he'd seen the spirit; he'd been waving goodbye as Xanxus was driven off in his father's limousine. He'd generally assumed that would be the last time too.

He'd never expected to see him on the Varia's doorstep six months after taking control, grinning under dark glasses and brightly coloured hair.

"Xanxus! Darling!" he cooed. "Look at you all grown up."

"What the fuck are you doing here trash?" he'd snapped, itching for his guns. The spirit just grinned.

"Can't you guess my little mage?" he'd chimed. "I want to make a contract."

Xanxus's eyes narrowed. "Do I look stupid trash?" he growled. "You kill anyone who tries to bind you."

Lussuria chuckled. "Yes, because everyone who tries is a stupid, powerless fool who doesn't understand me. Land spirits are very picky you know. I wasn't going to bend over for just anyone."

He slipped through the door, circling round Xanxus and avoiding the punch aimed his way.

"But you're not like all those other silly fools are you?" Lussuria purred, slipping closer and drinking Xanxus in. "I've been keeping tabs on you. Your power keeps on growing my little half breed prince. You're _special_. A diamond in my bad, bad rough. But don't you forget, no matter how high you climb, that you came from _me_."

"Keh, so what trash?" Xanxus growls. "You're just a spirit powered by stubborn trash. I never belonged there – I was always going to be more."

"Oh? If you're more than 'trash', then bind me up" Lussuria challenged. "Show me how much 'more' you are now."

Xanxus had lashed out with his flames almost on instinct, and Lussuria had reacted in kind. Five minutes later, the Varia entrance hall needed some serious construction work, and he was shooting Squalo's door down, throwing his newest Guardian into the wolf.

"Voi! Who the hell is this!" Squalo shrieked, trying to pry off arms that had snaked around his neck. Lussuria, still drunk on Xanxus's contract and magic, was all but giggling as the familiar failed to get him loose.

"Oh Xanxus honey! He's adorable! I just want to eat the puppy up!"

"VOI! A Land Spirit? A fucking Land Spirit? Why?"

Xanxus just smirked and slammed the door, grinning as Squalo's screaming echoed down the hall.

He'll never admit it, but Xanxus will always be grateful that Lussuria came to him. It's too easy forget, surrounded by power and history, that he was born in the trash. That he has _earned_ every damn thing that every other scum in this family take for granted.

He'll never forget where he came from – the new seal in the shape of a sun on his shoulder will make sure of that, but he will _never_ go back.

* * *

Squalo is happy that his boss is gathering so much power. He sure as hell didn't sign on to be with anyone weak.

But still…

He kind of misses when it was just the two of them. They really only had six months, three if you remove the months Squalo wasn't actually sentient, before the weasel showed up. Since then, Squalo's schedule has mostly revolved around keeping the Guardians from killing each other, and restraining himself from killing them. In fact, Squalo's starting to realise that he's barely had a minute with Xanxus that wasn't the man giving him an order or telling him to shut up over the past year.

He doesn't mention it though. It's not his place, and he doubts Xanxus actually cares. Instead, he throws himself into his work as per usual, herding Belphegor and making sure Lussuria doesn't take too many targets home for his 'collection,' before getting the day's reports and taking the to the boss's office in the evening.

To his surprise, Xanxus isn't at his desk. Instead he's sitting in the armchair he keeps in the corner of the room, which is more of a throne than anything else. He watches Squalo drop the files on the desk after his customary 'voi' before heading out.

The next thing he says however, stops Squalo in his tracks.

"Today's our anniversary. You remember?"

The wolf turned, surprise written on his face.

"Voi…yes. I just didn't think you cared."

Xanxus just snorted.

"Sit."

Squalo blinks in confusion. It's an odd request – there's no other seats nearby, and Xanxus generally shoots him when he sits on the floor.

His confusion seems to frustrate the mage, because he glares at his right hand.

"I said **sit** trash" he repeats, and kicks the bottom of the chair as a hand drops over the side. Squalo's eyes widen at the implication.

Xanxus hasn't…not since the _mountain…_

He's looking like he's going to tell Squalo to forget it if he doesn't obey soon, so Squalo bolts to the ground, kneeling so close to the armchair his head's practically brushing against the side. He hears Xanxus give a soft laugh, and his heart leaps into his throat when he feels his boss brush his hand through his hair.

The wolf shudders in ecstasy, holding back the whimper he knows Xanxus hates. Ever since the contract, Xanxus has forbidden all animal related acts. Belphegor's under the same rules, but the weasel's so unhinged it's hard to say if he even _has_ animal instincts anymore. Squalo has been told in no uncertain terms that he needs to use a sword, not his teeth. Eat with utensils rather than his hands, order people with words instead of growls and body language. And the first time Squalo had tried to be petted after the contract, it had resulted in a gun in his face and a warning that humans 'weren't that fucking clingy trash.'

Now he understands. Humans aren't that clingy. He needs to set an example in front of the Varia. But here, behind closed doors, Squalo doesn't have to be human. Tonight, Xanxus won't hold it against him.

Xanxus is trying to scratch him behind the ears, but it's not quite the same in this form. Squalo eyes his mage, and decides to take a risk. When the hand pulls back, Squalo moves, and Xanxus finds his right hand sprawled over his lap, arms supporting his head with his legs dangling off the side.

He freezes, half expecting to be kicked off for his arrogance, when he hears Xanxus chuckle.

"You're fucking shameless, you know that trash?" he says, and continues to brush a hand through what little fur Squalo still has. The wolf chuckles into his mages lap, and relaxes into the grooming.

* * *

With two familiars and a land spirit at his back before he even hits sixteen, Xanxus is already making waves. His brothers didn't get their fourth Guardian until their twenties, but Xanxus has no intention of waiting that long.

He needs more variety though. Squalo barely tolerates Belphegor – if he brings in another familiar, the wolf (and honestly, probably the weasel) will kill it within the week. Land spirits, by their very nature are extremely territorial – even if he could find one he wanted more than Lussuria, blood would be spilt before the sun had even set. It's all Squalo can do to keep the land spirit from abducting too many Varia members.

It doesn't really matter though. He's already got the perfect familiars and land spirit at his back. The next one can be something basic. A golem.

At its most basic, an artificial vessel for magic. At its most complicated, an autonomous being that channels incredible amounts of power. Some last hours, some last as long as their summoner. It all depends on what you want, and what you use.

He waits until there's a thunderstorm for added effect, and from the safety of his room, pulls out a lightning token forged by one of the best channelers in the city. It's a niche field – those that master channelling usually do so by sacrificing the ability to summon, but it's a very lucrative market – you can't make life-lasting golems without elemental tokens. It cost him nearly a year's worth of mission pay checks, but it was worth every penny.

Most people would use chalk or paint to create the necessary summoning circle, but his tutors had explained this had started when magic started to fade. He didn't have to substitute anything – instead, he burned the circle into the ground with his flame.

The most important part of a golem is the body - the material used can be just about anything, but the creature's personality will be based on whatever you use. Xanxus, already surrounded by extreme personalities wants something a little less loud, narcissistic and flamboyant than what he already has, but still dangerous.

In the end, he'd chosen a Varia uniform and jewellery. Piercings, mostly facial, but all brand new and lacking a magical signature. The newness would result in a blander personality than second hand, but so many would represent a dangerous presence. As an added bonus, they were all metal, which would work perfectly to ground the lightning token to the body – he'd heard horror stories of golems tokens ripping their bodies apart due to them not being compatible.

The token was dropped in the very centre of the circle, with the piercings surrounding it, all of the smaller pieces lying on the Varia leather, and Xanxus summoned up his flames. The circle shone orange, and he shoved as much power as he could into the lines. The storm outside raged as the flames surged, changing from orange to an erratic green, a figure emerging from the centre.

The final pulse rippled through the room, smashing the windows and the lights, forcing Xanxus to shield his eyes and break contact. When he lowers his arm, he takes in the figure standing in the centre.

Tall, impressively so, filling out the uniform that matched the shockingly spiky hair. His face was full of the piercings Xanxus had arranged, and he matched stares with him with dull eyes.

"Master. What are my orders?"

Xanxus grinned.

"To serve me. Any order I give you will carry out with speed and efficiency. You will care about nothing but my desires. Do you understand?"

The golem nods and holds out his hand. Xanxus grabs it and pulls him out of the circle, binding him forever.

"Levi" he decides, feeling the burn on his left hip. He already knows it'll be a lightning bolt. "That's your name."

* * *

For most of his Guardians, Xanxus had to find them and figure out what it took to bind them. Squalo took patience and confidence, Belphegor took threats, Lussuria needed years and proof he could be powerful, and Levi had to be built from scratch

Mammon on the other hand, found him. They even made an actual _appointment_.

When he spots the arcobaleno sitting in his office, it takes all of his training not to gape. It helps that Squalo's at his back, screeching and overacting for him. By the time Xanxus has sat down and thrown a tumbler at his right hand's face, he's mostly recovered.

The arcobaleno are infamous. It's universally accepted that without them, magic would be impossible to use. The cursed tokens that each of them wears – a brightly coloured pacifier – helps balance out the chaotic magic that runs through the world by forcing them into their tiny forms. None of them choose this fate – and one of the greatest mysteries is exactly how each generation of Arcobaleno is chosen. Even the Arcobaleno can't answer this – the curse that alters their body also affects their mind, if they remember what happened, they can't speak of it.

The one thing that is understood, is that each Arcobaleno has extraordinarily powerful magic and flames. Flames that could probably rival Xanxus. Which is what makes what Mammon's suggesting even more incredible.

"You want to sign a contract with me?"

The Arcobaleno nods, gesturing to the paper on the desk. Squalo picks it up, going through the text with a fine toothed comb.

"I find myself looking for a more permanent source of income, and access to Vongola records. The Vongola are strong and wealthy, and I hear you are in the market for more Guardians. You've already contracted four in two years – you can't afford to make anymore. A magical contract is your most rational course of action.

He's not wrong. A week after Levi was summoned, Xanxus found himself bedridden, swamped with the burden of trying to support four creatures. There were reasons people waited between contracts, and he'd been given a painful reminder of just why that was.

The trash in the slums had tried to get Xanxus to sign contracts dozens of times. It's a good way to get Guardians if you don't have a lot of excess power – by getting a human to sign away their loyalty to you or your cause. Generally, only those under a curse or a possession do it – their own magic so erratic that they can't function properly without another medium or mage calming their additional magic down.

"Voi! Why the boss?" Squalo snarls, dropping the paper and glaring at the baby. A good sign – Squalo would just be attacking if he'd found something dangerous in the contract, if he's not moving, he's just frustrated.

The arcobaleno just sniffs. "Why not?"

Squalo growls, but he honestly can't argue with that.

Mammon's contract isn't exactly standard. The Arcobaleno will get paid nearly three times what any other Varia member makes – including Xanxus himself – but the contract stipulates loyalty to Xanxus rather than the Varia or Vongola.

Xanxus will have one of the most powerful creatures still living in this world on his side.

The contract needs to be signed in blood. Xanxus has never moved a knife faster.

When he has a shower that night, he appreciates the mist seal on his thigh.

* * *

With his fifth contract in place, Xanxus actually starts to get complacent. His father has six guardians, but his brothers only have 3-4 each despite being so much older. As such, Xanxus can afford to wait for his cloud seal, and use his time in the Varia to improve his skills so the old man doesn't feel so guilty about passing over his older siblings. Ideally, he wants to find a demon or fey – the first two leaders of Vongola contracted the same demon despite warnings, and nearly every boss after that has had a fey or changeling in their service, his father included – but they're hard to find in this day and age.

Until then, he powers through missions, endures Squalo's screeching, avoids Belphegor's knives and Lussuria's hugs, and kicks Levi whenever he gets a little too obsessive (Mammon thankfully, has no such flaw, and can usually be enlisted to remove another Guardian from whatever they're doing by adding another zero to their next pay check). He still goes to the main house for dinner every Sunday, and speaks to his brothers over the phone several times a week.

It's a perfectly peaceful life…until Massimo is murdered.

When his body is found, Xanxus sets nearly the entire Varia on the family responsible. They burn through buildings and safe houses, and Squalo makes a point to ignore the Ninths calls until Xanxus stops seeing red.

He's angry. Angry that it happened, angry that his father didn't manage to stop it, and angry that there's nothing he could have done. It's enough to make him shake off the cobwebs of this happy little life and throw himself back into getting up the ranks. Surely now his old man will realise it's time to name his successor?

But inexplicably, the man doesn't. He stays on his throne, his Guardians watching like hawks whenever Xanxus walks into the room. It's only through Mammon and Squalo slipping into the main house and listening out for news that he learns Enrico and Federico are the next in line for succession, and he smashes a wine bottle against the book shelf.

Enrico? Federico, fine. His brother is actually very good at handling the men at the main house, Xanxus would have been surprised if his father wasn't considering him, but Enrico? He loves his brother, but the man is an unabashed flirt with only one familiar and two golems - with no elemental token in their core - as Guardians.

Something doesn't feel right, and he breaks into Nono's study. It doesn't take him long to find the old diaries, and instinct draws him to the date.

One simple page, and everything Xanxus has ever accepted as true burns into flames.

He is not Timoteo's son. There is no biological link between them. It is physically impossible for him to inherit the Vongola.

Squalo feels his magic fluctuating, and hunts him down in the Vongola grounds. He doesn't say a word, allowing his familiar to coax him home and take him to his room, all the while going over this revelation in his head.

He is Xanxus, the man who will one day rule the underworld.

Except he's not, because no matter what he does, he can never be more than an underling. No matter how strong he is, how suited he is, how much he _deserves_ it, he can never sit on that throne.

That…ISN'T FAIR!

Squalo, almost ready to leave, jerks back when Xanxus suddenly bursts into flames, grabbing his guns and shooting anything that he can spot. The wolf jumps out the window, mindless of the drop, while the rest of his Guardians jerk awake and gather in the hall, unable to leave but unwilling to get in his way.

When the sun rises, Xanxus storms out of his room, little more than a smoking crater by the time he's calmed down, and takes in the Guardians camped out in the hall. He grins at them, more than a little manic.

"Prepare yourselves trash" he warns. "The old man won't put me on the throne? I'll fucking rip him off and do it myself."

Belphegor grins. Lussuria squeals. And Squalo?

Squalo gives him the same fang-tooth smile he did the day he made the contract.

"Voi! Bout time shitty boss."

* * *

The coup started well. Xanxus waited until his brothers were both away, not wanting them to suffer for their father's lies. If they refused to accept his succession…well, he'd worry about that when the time came.

His Guardians are quality, taking out the Ninth's men almost effortlessly, and finally, Xanxus finds himself facing the man who lied to his face for over half a decade.

It all comes out then. Screaming and ranting at the man who told him he could have the world while grooming him to the serve the one who really would. The old man doesn't even apologise, and Xanxus prepares to kill him. The old man's not in his prime anymore – there's no way his flames can match up with Xanxus.

Except the man doesn't use flames. He uses ice.

Only…it's not ice. It's sucking up his flames like no tomorrow and Xanxus can't stop it. It's like some kind of anti-aura, taking away one's power instead of merging with it.

Before the darkness hits, he thinks he can hear Squalo howling, and frantically wonders if this prison will keep his magic from fuelling his Guardians.

But before he can finish that thought, the ice covers his head, and he can barely think of anything at all.

* * *

 

Squalo had been ready for death. He'd been ready for it before Xanxus ever found him. Before the teen appeared on the mountain, the wolf had been alone. Cast out and unwanted, surviving only due to sheer pride and stubbornness. Xanxus gave him meaning, and for that he would do whatever the mage wanted. Kill his enemies, learn to fight with this fake fang, force the mishmash of psychotics the man picked as his Guardians into something resembling a functional pack, and yes, die to get him the Vongola throne.

He hadn't been ready to feel Xanxus's power ebb away, the seal on his arm fading grey while the magic Squalo stored suddenly started to wane.

Each of the Guardians froze when Xanxus fell, and less than an hour later, Squalo found himself kneeling in front of the Vongola Ninths desk, hands shackled and pinned down by the CEDEF commander, Sawada Iemitsu.

They explained to the wolf that the other Guardians were in custody, but due to their nature, none of them would be feeling the issues Squalo would soon be.

"Belphegor still holds onto that cursed token" the Ninth told him, as if he wasn't brutally aware of that. "And Lussuria and Levi both have their own internal power sources to keep them functional. You are the only one who relied completely on Xanxus."

"Voi! I know that!" Squalo snaps. It had always been his biggest weakness…and his greatest strength. He didn't need anything more because his mage was so powerful, he'd never _need_ more power than what he got from him.

"The…spell, that I used on Xanxus" Timoteo continued. "It won't stop his magic completely, but I'm sure you can already feel yourself weakening. In a few months, you won't have enough power left to maintain your form."

Squalo curses them in his head.

"Voi! I know that already, so unless your next words involve releasing the boss, I don't see the point of this!"

Timoteo gave what Squalo assumed was meant to be a sympathetic smile. "You have always been a loyal soldier Squalo, as have the other Guardians. To be honest, I'm not sure the Varia would still be able to function without you leading. But without a contract, you won't be able to maintain it."

"We're willing to overlook your part in the coup" Iemitsu continued. "At the end of the day, you were just doing what you were told to do by your boss. But we'll need something else in return."

Squalo glared at him in confusion, only to pale in sheer horror as Iemitsu's summoned flames, and pooled his magic into his hand.

"Voi!" he howled, trying to break free of his chains. "You're going to overwrite my contract? You can't do that!"

"Iemitsu…" Timoteo began, holding up a hand. To Squalo's relief, the mage withdrew his hand. Unfortunately, Timoteo wasn't done.

"Squalo, understand your situation. You require a contract, and we require proof that you will remain loyal to the Vongola. At the moment, Iemitsu is the only mage in my employ with enough power to take on your contract. You can either accept him, or agree to serve one of my sons when they return."

"Hey, cheer up!" Iemitsu said, trying to ease him into it. "You'll still be Varia, taking care of your men. You'll just be answering to me when I ask you to. That's not so bad, right?"

"Not so bad?" Squalo hissed, damming the man with every ounce of ire you have. "It's the greatest betrayal I could do, and the fact that you don't understand that shows just how pathetic a mage you are!"

He bucks again, trying to break free.

"I will never willingly bind myself to you Sawada! Or your brats Vongola! I have a mage. One day, he'll break free of your chains and take that seat for himself! And on that day, I'll bind you in chains and make you swear loyalty to him! Then we'll see if it's 'not so bad!'"

One more jerk, and Iemitsu curses as Squalo finally breaks free, arm flying in front of the wolf's face. Even knowing Xanxus would shoot him for it, Squalo grins and bites the arm with all the strength his tiny fangs can muster. The blonde's howl of pain is unbelievably soothing.

He takes the distraction for what it is, and gathers what little magic he has left, pooling it down inside for when he needs it, and lets this form go. Hair thickens and flows down his body, joints swivel and teeth sharpen. By the time Iemitsu has recovered and the Ninth is standing, the second-in-command of the Varia is no longer there, replaced by a wolf jumping out of shackles too big enough to hold him. They move to grab him, only for the wolf to slip through their fingers, smashing through the glass window and tumbling to the ground.

When the guards make it to the source of the crash, all they find is shattered glass and bloody paw prints vanishing into the bushes.

* * *

Days fold into weeks, and Squalo stalks the grounds, hiding in the forest and licking his wounds. Time doesn't really have much value to him right now – just a way to think about how long it's been since he saw Xanxus.

Until one day, he walks to his den and find Belphegor waiting for him, Mammon sitting on his head.

"Are you done moping?" the Arcobaleno asked. Squalo snarls in reply, and Belphegor laughs.

"Shishishishi, the prince approves of your loyalty. I'd have killed you if you'd bared your stomach to those worthless peasants."

"Bel" Mammon snaps, stamping on his head before looking over at Squalo.

"I can't disagree with him, letting them take your contract would have been unforgiveable. I've been…explaining this to them for the last month."

Underneath the hood, Squalo sees the baby smirk.

"They've agreed they might have been too forward, and we now have a compromise. You can return to the Varia with your current contract for as long as you're capable of functioning. For your own sake and the boss, you'd better figure out how to free him before you run out of magic completely."

Squalo's eyes widen. It's more than he'd thought he'd get – how worthless was he, to have to get the other Guardians to protect him? While he'd been hiding in the bushes, they'd been manoeuvring around to get him back.

His hackles drop, and he pulls on the magical core within. He's not stupid, he knows Vongola's game. Even though Squalo has been hoarding magic for years, there's no way he can maintain human form forever. Eventually, his contract will run out. One day he'll wake up little more than a dumb beast, and the Vongola will swoop in to collar him.

But he also knows one simple fact. He can't help Xanxus from out here.

Belphegor grins as the wolf shifts back into the newly promoted Varia Commander. When the wolf is steady on his feet, he smirks at the weasel and baby.

"Voi! Start moving scum. We've got work to do."

* * *

Eight years.

He's been trying to free Xanxus for a length of time longer than he'd been alive. Over the years, men in the Varia have come and gone, Vongola spies have watched them like hawks, and Iemitsu has dropped in a dozen times, smile on his face and flames in his hand.

Squalo and the others have fielded off every attack, and been perfectly behaved, until even the most wary family member was certain of their loyalty. It's been an adjustment, surviving without Xanxus, if he's not on duty or practising his sword work, Squalo prowls around the mansion as a wolf, rationing his limited magic, letting it last year's more than it should. Sometimes Belphegor even joins him, the weasel clinging to his fur with his tiara hanging round his neck – Squalo can tell the token isn't as powerful as it once was, for all his pride, Bel could be in the same situation as Squalo soon enough if he isn't careful.

Lussuria spends most of his free time in the slums, drawing power from the citizens that give him life with his precious boss no longer able to charge him, while Levi spends every waking moment training his Varia subordinates to within an inch of their lives so they'll be suitable for his boss when he returns.

Squalo's both disgusted and envious of the single minded devotion and certainty the golem possesses.

Mammon is the one they rely on to do the research. Out of all of them, the arcobaleno is the only one that really understands the tomes in the library, and how mafia hide their secrets. It's also not suspicious for him to spend so much time in the library – the arcobaleno had admitted years ago that the primary reason for approaching Vongola was not their wealth, but their historical records. The baby is looking for a way to break the curse that binds them, and spends every spare moment looking for clues in the archives.

Hiding the odd tome on the mysterious ice magic while he researches is child's play.

But it's not just the Varia that have had to adapt. The Vongola have suffered terrible blows. Both Federico and Enrico have been assassinated, leaving the Ninth without an heir. The Varia are investigated heavily after both incidents, but Squalo is not lying when he says they had nothing to do with either incident. They even allow themselves to hope that the man might now come to his senses and release their boss.

But no. Behind locked doors and privacy seals, rumours leak out of Iemitsu and Timoteo discussing _another_ possible heir. Neither are apparently happy about it – the worlds 'cursed' and 'demon' show up more than once, but one day, Mammon bursts into Squalo's office with news that makes the wolf howl with rage.

Iemitsu is a descendant of Primo, and has a son – who lives on the other side of the world. Reborn, quite possibly the most famous of all the arcobaleno has been contracted to train him. He flies out that night.

Xanxus, the true heir of Vongola lies trapped in the dark recesses of the building, and Timoteo has all but forgotten him, instead bringing in a child to sit on the throne.

Squalo won't accept it. He'll die first.

The one good thing about the new heir being decided? Everyone is distracted, and Mammon uses the opportunity to get his hands on the most secretive of documents. It takes weeks to slip them out without anyone noticing, and months to crack their code, but they finally have an answer.

The Vongola Rings. Some of the most powerful tokens in the world – forged in the days where men could summon gods.

As an added bonus, the Ninth and his guardians don't even wear them anymore. They're locked up in a vault, only to be worn on special occasions.

A vault, that between Belphegor's destructive nature, Lussuria's dangerous mind and Levi's electrical skills, crumples like wet cardboard.

The keys in hand, Squalo leads them down to the basement, thinking back to the last time he saw his boss. He'd never dared come down here again – unable to face his boss without a way out.

It's as bad as he remembers. Xanxus, trapped amongst glittering crystals, scars from the cold burn littering his body, face carved in an expression of utter betrayal.

None of the Guardians speak, instead grabbing the rings and setting them out around the ice in a facsimile of a summoning circle. Squalo can't believe it's this easy…only to grin as the rings glow, and the ice, finally, _finally,_ starts to melt.

But before they can celebrate, his ears prick up, the sound of men storming down the hall echoing to the chamber.

They've found the vault. They're going to _stop them._

"Voi!" Squalo yells, grabbing the others attention. "Protect the boss. The second the ice is low enough get him out of here!"

"What are you planning Squalo darling?" Lussuria asks, eyes darting between him and his boss. Squalo just smiles, showing far too much teeth.

"Voi! I'm going to make a path!" he yells, and runs down the hall towards the small army heading his way. His sword is already out, and he draws on every ounce of magic he has left to cut down the first wave of mooks to reach him. He no longer has to store it, and these scum don't deserve to even breathe the same air as his boss.

When the ice finally breaks, Squalo's neck deep in blood, bodies and yet another wave of reinforcements. His contract is old and dull, but his entire body shivers with delight as Xanxus, his incredible, awesome mage, finally wakes up. Seconds later, what tiny dregs of magic he has left vanish, returning to the mage to boost his recovery, and Squalo finds himself on four legs involuntarily.

He can't begrudge it though, and limps out of the underground, slipping past the still living guards and vanishing into forest surrounding the building once again.

* * *

 

The forests of the Varia are hardly the snow-capped mountains of Apennine, but Squalo still feels like he’s stepped back in time when Xanxus walks into view.  He stands on the small clifftop, looking over the Varia grounds, full moon hanging in the sky as flames ricochet through the trees, calling his wayward familiar home.

He feels strong – he's met with the others already, pulled them back and bound them in. Squalo strides into view, drinking in the sight he'd thought he'd never see again.

Xanxus just stares at him, face expressionless, but holds out one hand. Squalo can almost see the flames the man's supressing, and whimpers as he walks over, coaxing that hand into grey fur. It slides over his muzzle, over his eyes, and rubs his ears.

"Squalo" Xanxus commands, and the wolf feels his fur stand on end, the contract between them revitalising and pulling back the beast as magic rushes into every vein. Fur recedes and leather shines in the moonlight.

He feels the hand freeze when the fur becomes hair. It hadn't been an easy decision – as a familiar, aging is more optional than necessity. Spirits didn't really understand the concept, and Bel quite frankly couldn't care less. But Squalo had encouraged it, let his hair grow and his face wrinkle – he wanted Xanxus to see how much he'd grown.

Xanxus had lost eight years, but Squalo hadn't wasted them. He'd grown, learned, planned.

Nobody is ever going to be strong enough to take Xanxus away from him Ever. Again.

When Xanxus tells him what he plans to do, Squalo kneels, and prepares to explain it to the others.

This is the man that will rule the Vongola or die trying. And for all the insanity and arguments his Guardians may have, they can all agree on one thing.

They will die to achieve the first, and die to stop the last.

Without Xanxus, there is no magic in their world. And with no magic, there is no life.

And no stupid Japanese brat is going to change that.

"Let's get to work, trash."

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> I think I might like to play in this universe again. Got a whole ton of ideas for the Tsuna and the others, but on the back burner for now.


End file.
